


you're the magic in my veins

by destiny919



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble Series, F/M, these are more like scraps of scenes than drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:14:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 6,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2398061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destiny919/pseuds/destiny919
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this must be love</p><p>Stydia drabble series! All unconnected unless otherwise noted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hold it anyway

“I should have been there with her,” Stiles mutters.

“Yeah,” Scott says softly, “you should have.” He swallows hard. “We all should have, really. Or even just one of us.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Me especially.” He twists his hands together. “I told her last year – if she died, I’d go out of my freaking mind. And I’d be devastated if she got hurt.” His smile is bitter, more of a grimace. “I guess after everything, I forgot how true that was. And it’s more true now than ever. She got hurt, and I’m devastated, but also because this is actually _my fault_.”

“Stiles -,” Scott begins warningly.

He shakes his head. “Don’t even try, Scotty. The doctors say she’ll be alright, but despite that… I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to forgive myself.”

Scott nods sadly. “Honestly, Stiles, I’m more concerned about _Lydia_ forgiving you. Forgiving any of us.” He cracks a smile. “Except not really, because we both know Lydia would never blame any of us in the first place.”

“And that’s another reason to feel guilty,” Stiles says lowly. “She was trying to help us. We’d practically ignored her for weeks without even noticing, and she was trying to help us. Even Liam and Malia and all the other people on the deadpool she’d never even met.”

The alpha paused. “Where _is_ Malia?”

Stiles shrugs unconcernedly. “I have no idea. She sat here with me for like twenty minutes, tapping her foot and shit, and then she snapped at me, ‘why are we still here?’” He snorts. “I told her _I’m_ not leaving until Lydia wakes up, and she just scoffed and glared at me and walked out. Haven’t seen or talked to her since.”

“Uh, sorry about that,” Scott offers uncertainly.

He only shrugs again. “Can’t say that I care, really. I can’t think about anything except -.” Stiles inhaled sharply. “I lied to her.” He finally looked up at met Scott’s eyes, his gaze not having wavered from Lydia’s pale, still face the entire time. “I’m not just not leaving when she wakes up. I’m not leaving her _ever_ , not again. Unless she wants me to after this,” he adds grimly.

“She won’t,” Scott says with another small smile. “But Malia probably won’t like that, either.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t dumped me,” Stiles confesses. “Honestly, I wish she would. Being with her, or more like trying to, is… weird.”

Scott eyes Lydia’s unconscious form unsubtly. “Especially now that you’ve remembered a certain someone else.”

“I never really forgot,” Stiles whispers. “I was… distracted. That’s what I thought I needed, after the – the Nogitsune. I was wrong.” He shuts his eyes and swallows hard. “What I really needed was Lydia. And looking back at everything now – she needed me too. But I wasn’t there. How could I not have been there, Scott? And now this!” He gestured jerkily at Lydia, lying in the hospital bed – again.

“She still needs you, dude,” Scott said firmly.

“How can I be there for her now? I feel too horrible and guilty to even hold her hand.” His own fingers twitched with longing.

His best friend crosses his arms across his chest. “And this isn’t about you and how you feel. You want to be there for Lydia, forget the guilt for now and hold it anyway.”

 


	2. tongue-tied

His mouth works, desperately trying to sound out the syllables of _I love you too_. His tongue feels clumsy and numb and everything is wrong. He shouldn’t say it anyway, since Malia would be able to hear his heartbeat and tell he is lying.

Because when Stiles thinks of love, saying the words to a girl and meaning them, he pictures strawberry blonde hair and sad eyes that pierce his soul. It hits him like a punch to the gut, robbing him of breath and causing a pain that he probably deserves.


	3. dreams really do come true

“I dreamt about you,” he told her softly.

Lydia smiled a little mischievously. “Yeah? What happened?” Her hand came up and she stroked along the hot line of his jaw, a little stubbly in the morning.

“It was just us. Like this, in my bed, together.” Stiles swallowed. “You were happy.”

Her smile gentled and widened. “I _am_ happy.”

All traces of hesitance on his face disappeared and he beamed at her. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this continues into the next bit sort of they're like the same morning


	4. french toast and french kissing probably

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> continued from the previous eyyy

“Come on, let’s bring these upstairs.” Lydia went to the counter to pick up the plate, but Stiles was too quick.  He came up behind her, hands resting on the counter, Lydia bracketed in by his arms - something to which she was not averse.

Twisting to face him, she raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason you’re delaying my breakfast, Stiles?” she asked loftily, or as loftily as she could when his much larger frame was enveloping her like this, something she was now sure would be very, _very_ nice in the future.

He just smiled at her. “Is there a reason you want to go upstairs?  Lydia Martin, eating messy French toast anywhere but the kitchen table?”

She made a face at him. “Okay, so maybe I just want to be back in your bed.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows at her, his grin widening. “You like my bed?”

“I love it,” Lydia admitted.

He laughed softly, and leaned down to touch his forehead to hers, noses brushing. “I knew it.  That’s what this is, you’re only using me for my mattress.”

“Mm.” She pressed back against him a little. “It’s not so much the bed itself as it is who’s in it with me.”

His eyes were closed now, his smile soft - something she could feel more than see, their faces were so close together now. “Then you are welcome to do anything you please in my bed, Lyds.”

“Anything?” she asked innocently.

Stiles laughed a little harder this time, and she could feel it vibrate through his chest where her hands rested now, and she gave in.  His chuckling was cut off by her mouth.

His lips parted eagerly for her tongue, and the kissing quickly grew heated, though it still had the languid quality of a peaceful morning.  Lydia was completely barefoot, and Stiles was almost ridiculously taller than her, making this a little difficult, though well worth it.  But, bless him, it was only a few moments before Stiles reached behind her, pushed aside the plate of French toast rather carelessly, and picked her up with his hands on the backs of her thighs, setting her down on the countertop.

“Much better,” she breathed in the brief second he let her lips go.  He nodded, grinning again for just a heartbeat, before kissing her again, one she could feel all the way down to the tips of her bare toes.  Lydia twined her arms around his neck, as his encircled her waist tightly, pulling her flush against him.  Her legs wrapped around his hips automatically, and she ground against him a little, making him groan against her mouth. “Someone’s hungry,” she breathed. “And not for breakfast, hm?”

He was reluctant to stop kissing her long enough to get any coherent words out (something she could definitely relate to), but he managed: “You have carte blanche with my bed, Lydia.  Got any plans?”

“Oh, baby,” she purred. “ _Hundreds_.”


	5. yeah, scott IS great

It was hard to believe that just a year and a half ago, Lydia would have considered the Jeep to be so unacceptable a mode of transportation, that she literally did not notice it.  That was just the case.  She was too distracted by the silver Porsche and the sculpted abs and the passive-aggression. 

Now she was not only sitting quite comfortably in the passenger seat of the Jeep, she was holding hands with the driver. 

Stiles Stilinski.  Her boyfriend.  Whom she was almost inclined to label the love of her life, had she believed in such things, or been naïve enough to think that she’d find it at only seventeen years old.  Stiles wouldn’t have called it naïve, though.  He’d have called it the truth.  After all, he had been in love with her since he was eight, or so he said. She believed him. 

They pulled into a parking space at Beacon Hills High School, and Stiles cut the engine.  Her grip on his hand tightened.  He looked over at her, and smiled a little. “You okay, Lyds?”

She swallowed, and turned to meet his eyes.  They’d been so cold while he was possessed.  But now they held as much warmth as they ever did – more, because he was looking at her. “I love you,” she told him, voice quiet but firm.  She’d told him for the first time last night.

 _They’d just been having a quiet evening, which was all Stiles wanted for a while after he was himself again.  They had been watching yet another of his favorite movies, this time it was_ Back to the Future _.  They’d started out the night just sitting on the couch, his arm around her shoulders, actually paying attention to the movie (or rather, Lydia was pretending to.  The scientific improbability of the DeLorean limited her capacity to enjoy it.)  But they’d gotten progressively more comfortable, and by (recent) definition, that meant closer together._

_So Stiles had ended up lying back against the pillows at the end of the couch, and Lydia lying on his chest with her head on his shoulder, eyes closed and face tucked close to his neck – she’d stopped bothering to pretend she was watching the movie. “Stiles,” she’d said softly._

_“Hm?” He’d canted his head to the side so that his jaw touched Lydia’s forehead._

_“I love you.”_

_His head had jerked back into the upright position and then some as he leaned away from her to look at her face. “Did you just – did you say – did you?” he had spluttered, cheeks flushing._

_“I did,” she had confirmed lowly.  Stiles had exhaled hard and looked at her for another few seconds before he leaned back in, further than before, until his forehead pressed against hers and their noses touched._

_“I love you. Too, I mean.  I figure you knew that already.  I shouted it at you like – like, twice a day, for years?  But uh. Yeah. I love you. I -.”_

_“Stiles,” she had said again, even quieter than before, barely louder than a breath. “Stop talking.  For once in your life.”_

_“’Kay.” His eyes had shut._

She’d kissed him, then, like she’d never kissed anybody.  Softly, and honestly.  Like she loved him and knew he loved her too. 

She did.  It was a fact now like any other.  Two plus two equals four, pi is infinite, the sky is blue, Lydia and Stiles love each other.  And he knew it too. 

So he wasn’t surprised when she told him that.  Instead, he just gave her a blinding smile, and tugged on their intertwined hands a little to bring her closer.  With his free hand he gently cupped the back of her head and pulled her in to kiss her quickly but tenderly.  It made her a little lightheaded – just like all the kisses she’d shared with Stiles since the previous evening. “I love you too,” he told her when they broke apart, though their faces remained only centimeters away from each other, just far enough so he could move his lips to speak those lovely words instead of to press them against hers.  She could see the way his eyes sparkled when he said it, his wonderful warm eyes that heated up even more for her – in more ways than one, a prospect she was eager to explore.  Soon.  Right now they had another hurdle to jump over as a couple, that she was looking forward to much less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoever gets the chapter title wins a cookie


	6. night school actually teaches something

“Oh my _God_ , Lydia, this is a life or death situation here.  Is _that_ really your main priority right now?” Stiles snapped at her.

And Lydia stops talking.  And she actually _gapes_ at him.  Because _how does he know how does he know how does he know_.  Nobody knew.  Jackson didn’t know, Allison her “new best friend”  didn’t know, nobody knew.  She was very careful that way, to hide her perfect test scores and her 176 IQ and her 5.0 GPA and -

And that’s when she realizes, this is _Stiles Stilinski_.  He has the second-highest grades in school, right after her, he is the probable salutatorian to her valedictorian come the blessed time of graduation.  Of course he knows how smart she is because he is as close to an equal as she has ever come.

And because Lydia is a genius all of this gaping and thinking lasts about five seconds, just long enough for Jackson to open his mouth to snap, “What the fuck are you talking about, Stilinski?”

Stiles ignores him, staring her down, his gaze so intense that she remembers he has ADHD and she remembers that many people with that disability also have an incredible capacity, if not a propensity, for hyper-focusing.  

And she blushes.

“I’m talking to your girlfriend about how little you know her, Whittemore,” Stiles says without looking away. “Seriously, Lydia, is it that worthwhile?”

Lydia stares back at him, into eyes she never actually has before.  They’re brown, and she can tell that if it weren’t nighttime, if the sun was streaming in through the twenty-foot windows he was the only one to notice - _as close to an equal_ \- then they’d appear almost gold.  She’s looking into eyes that look into hers and see past the batting lashes, see inside them and into her brain that is tick, tick, ticking away with so many things that could save them, just so many things.  He knows it’s in there, and he thinks she should show it.  And if her only possible equal thinks that, then maybe it’s worth considering.

Her jaw sets. “No.  I suppose it isn’t.”

Jackson rounds on her now. “The fuck does he mean?”

Stiles snorts. “Eloquent.”

“What he means is that I can save us,” she responds without looking at her boyfriend.  Her boyfriend who has no idea who she actually is.  “Or at least come up with something we could try.”

“ _YES!_ ” Stiles actually raises his fists in the air and grins. “Thank you!  Jesus Christ, I thought this day would never come.” He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Now can we get back to self-igniting Molotov cocktails and the making thereof?”

“Yes,” she snips. “Hand me that bottle on the far left.”

He does so.  And he gets each subsequent container or tool.  All the while looking at her with complete confidence and _pride_.  It’s unfamiliar to her.  It’s frightening to her.  It’s possibly the best thing she’s ever felt.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> throwback AU thingie from "night school" all the way in season 1


	7. he does get sick and he is the worst patient ever

He reaches out and tucks a strawberry blonde curl behind her ear with a tenderness he can’t repress, cupping her face with his palm for a moment. He goes still when she leans her cheek against it, and gives him a soft, ethereal smile. Sitting here on the bathroom floor – which _is_ better than the boys’ locker room – Lydia looks so beautiful, despite being sick, smiling at him like an angel in ratty pajamas, and his heart is in his throat. If he didn’t think she’d probably smack him for it because she just vomited, he’d lean in and kiss her. And that fact slips out before he can help it.

Stiles tells her shakily, “If I didn’t think you’d smack me for it because you just puked, I’d kiss you right now.”

Her smile only widens, and he could swear time stops. “I wouldn’t smack you.”

He strokes his thumb across her cheekbone, feather-light. “No?”

“I’d only be afraid of you getting sick too,” Lydia says with a little pout of concern.

The corners of his lips quirk up. “Would you take care of me if I did?”

She reaches up and touches his hand still on her cheek, holding it there and pressing closer. “Of course I would.”

His face blooms into a broad grin. “Then it’d be worth it.”

She chuckled. “Tell me that _after_ we see how many more times I’m in here leaning over the toilet.” Lydia’s up on her feet before he can help her. “Come on, lover boy, you’re gonna cuddle with me while I watch sitcom reruns.”

“Wait.” Stiles catches her hand and easily draws her back to him.


	8. would it rly be so hard for this to happen in canon WOULD IT

“Please,” Lydia choked out. “Please, Stiles.”

He inhaled a deep breath, and then took two long strides over, reached up to hold her face tightly between his hands, and kissed her. Stiles pressed his lips to hers for one long, feverish moment, before they slowly parted, only for him to touch their foreheads together. His honey-colored eyes bored into her green ones, blurred as they were by the tears now slipping down her cheeks. He kissed her again, just the faintest, gentlest brush of lips. Her eyes fluttered shut when he did, but then reopened just as quickly.

“You’ll come back to me,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“I’ll come back to you,” he replied.

With that Stiles finally backed away from her to leave, his gaze still never wavering from hers until he was eventually forced to turn around and go, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Lydia felt her shoulders start to shake as the tears finally overtook her, letting out a strangled sob. Melissa, who had been hovering in the hallway trying not to intrude, came over and put a gentle arm around the crying girl, who immediately buried her face in the comfort of the woman’s shoulder. Melissa stroked her strawberry blonde hair lightly. “He’ll be alright,” she told her in a soft voice. “They all will. My son is going too, you know.”

“Of course.” Lydia sniffed a little. “And this is kind of terrible for me to say, but – but at least Scott can heal! Stiles is a human, he could – he could – !” Her words cut off as she succumbed to more sobs. “I just wish I could go with him. With all of them. Allison, Scott – everyone I love has their life on the line.”

Melissa noticed the banshee didn’t say a word about herself, even though not only  was Lydia often a target as well, she was more the most vulnerable of them all, as evidenced by the broken ankle keeping her at home that night. “Isn’t that one of the good things about being a banshee?” she asked tentatively. “You could feel it if – if something was going to happen.”

Her head lifted from Melissa’s shoulder, and she nodded. “I guess that is one little plus,” she mumbled. “I don’t feel anything. But I can’t help worrying. I worry whenever Stiles isn’t with me, even if it’s just because we don’t have the same class that period.” She wiped her eyes delicately. “I love him. I love him more than anything, and I haven’t even told him that, y’know? The worst – the worst thing would be if he died and he never knew.”

“He knows,” Melissa promised firmly. “There’s no way he could ever think otherwise, you’re not very subtle, sweetie,” she teased a little.

That coaxed a smile out of Lydia. “He isn’t either. But you know Stiles, for all his brilliance and detective skills, he can be pretty oblivious. It took him long enough to realize Malia actually liked _Kira_ more than she liked him. And God knows that was the least subtle thing I’ve ever seen.”

Melissa took advantage of her calming down to sit them both down on the couch, keeping her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “You should tell him you love him,” she couldn’t resist advising. “You know he’ll reciprocate, and think how happy you’ll be then.”

Lydia’s little smile got wider, but then she faltered. “I – I know. I’ve just hesitated for a long time because I’m so scared – I’ve never felt like this about anyone else, and I’ve never been very good about my real feelings anyway, and…” She trailed off. “Even though I know it’s crazy, and Stiles would never hurt me on purpose, if he did it would hurt worse than anything else ever could.”

“That’s always the case when you truly love someone,” Melissa told her gently. “You give your heart to them and they have free reign. And you can’t be sure they won’t be careless with it. But I think Stiles is as unlikely to hurt you that way as anyone could possibly be.”


	9. this is like for real my favorite stydia thing i've ever written so y'all better recognize

Stiles was splayed out on his stomach, more than half asleep. Lydia couldn’t help giving him a tender smile before she started picking up her things to go home.

Right before she left, she gave into the strong impulse and went over to press a soft kiss to his forehead. It turned out, however, that Stiles was more awake and possessed much quicker reflexes than she’d given him credit for. He caught her wrist in his hand with a surprisingly strong grasp, and cracked open one honey-brown eye. “Don’t go,” he mumbled. “Stay.”

Lydia felt her cheeks warm and knelt by the side of his bed. She was already half-unconsciously slipping her shoes back off. “Yeah?” she whispered.

Nodding clumsily, he muttered, possibly to himself, “Don’t want you to leave. Don’t want you to leave me.”

Her heart spasmed in her chest and her lips twitched into a small but uncontrollable grin. “Okay. I won’t.”

“Ever,” he added, his eye sliding shut again.

“Ever,” she agreed softly.

Lydia gently retrieved her hand from his still-tight grip and stood up silently, smiling at the boy she was madly, undeniably in love with. She crept across his room and retrieved a soft cotton tshirt and some sweatpants from his dresser. This wasn’t the first time she’d slept over, but it was the first time he’d asked her like that as opposed to it being by tacit mutual agreement because it was four in the morning and goblins were on the loose.

After quickly changing in Stiles’ bathroom, she crept back out into his room, peering at him still lying on his bed. Both of his eyes were half-open, though, and he was grinning sleepily at her in a way that made Lydia’s heart skip a beat.

She padded slowly over to his bed and pulled back the covers – Stiles made a grumpy noise when he had to move. But his expression cleared as he watched her climb into his bed, staring at her with an intensity that belied his sleepy state. It made her cheeks heat, and she bit her lip shyly even as she settled her head on his pillow. She’d crawled in close enough already that his was resting on the same one. Lydia couldn’t rip her gaze away from him, even as her eyelids drooped slightly.

Stiles reached out and delicately tucked a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, his fingertips skittering down her shoulder, and then he wrapped his long arm securely around her waist.

“I hate it when you leave,” he muttered, tiredness making him freer with his words and feelings than usual. “Every time, I want you to stay. With me. I just – I always want you with me.”

“Me too.” Lydia’s hand came up and curled lightly around his neck, her thumb stroking his jaw back and forth. “I want to be with you all the time. Everything feels wrong when I’m not.”

Stiles inhaled sharply, and in a sudden movement pulled her closer, crushing her against his chest. She clutched at his shirt in return. “Love you, Lyds,” he mumbled into her hair, words slurring together both from urgency and unconquerable drowsiness. “Love you so much.”

She grinned into his chest, wriggling even closer and burying her face in him. “I love you too, Stiles.” There was a powerful chance he wouldn’t remember this in the morning, if he even heard her muffled words right then. But she couldn’t help believing that maybe it would be okay if he did.


	10. i was so dissatisfied with the s4 finale but then it wouldn't have been a fitting end for the season if i wasn't

“I was scared, though, dad,” Stiles admitted, rubbing his wrist where the handcuffs had chafed it. “I kept worrying I was never going to see you again, never going to see – !” He cut himself off abruptly. He wasn’t supposed to care that much about never seeing Lydia Martin again, even though it had consumed his thoughts during most of the time in Mexico.

But his father gave him a terribly knowing look. “Son,” he began quietly, “you know I’ve always had a dangerous job. I used to be terrified of not coming home to you and your mother, and I am still afraid of you losing me. But now you’re involved in all this supernatural fighting, so your life is in peril just as much as mine is.”

“You’re not going to lose me, dad,” Stiles said immediately, automatically.

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. “You just said you were afraid of never seeing me again. But that’s not quite the point. I want to give you the advice my first police mentor gave me when I started as a rookie, and your mother and I were still just dating.” He reached out and squeezed his son’s hand. “ _Tell her you love her_. Every day, every second. Make sure she knows, because in our line of work, you might not get another chance.”

Stiles and his father both knew full well he wasn’t talking about Malia Tate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next part is a continuation of this maybe i'll write a third if you ask nicely or my muse comes back to life ever


	11. someday they get matching his and hers baseball bats shut the fuck up

It was only the next afternoon when Stiles came bursting back into the police station. “Dammit, dad!” he exclaimed as soon as he was in his father’s office.

“What is it, Stiles?” the sheriff asked resignedly.

“I broke up with her!” Stiles stabbed a finger at his dad. “Because of your freaking rookie advice, I went and broke up with Malia!”

“Ah.” He smirked. “I could pretend there was nothing in my advice indicating I thought you should do that, but we both know better.”

Stiles plowed ahead. “And now I don’t know what to do next! So come on, Yoda! Where’s some more sage wisdom?”

His father braced his hands on the desk and stood up. “Son, there’s only one thing I can say to you.” He leaned forward. “ _Go get her already_.”

Swallowing, he asked pleadingly, “What if she doesn’t feel the same? And I ruin everything?”

“Stiles, she used a baseball bat to try fighting off the berserker.”

He stared with his jaw hanging for a few moments. And then he whirled around and sprinted out of the station in even more of a frenzy than he’d arrived.


	12. by popular demand, part iii: return of the jedi (yes i know that is wrong)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> continuation of the previous two, written, like i said, in response to popular demand

Later that day, Stiles came to the station again. Only this time he didn’t come alone.

The sheriff smiled at the sight of Lydia Martin holding his son’s hand.

“So, uh,” Stiles scratched the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t holding Lydia’s, “figured you should know. Thanks for the advice, Dad. Not a bad Yoda.”

His smile turned into a smirk. “Anytime, son.”

“I thought you were Han Solo?” Lydia asked Stiles. “I’m Princess Leia. If he’s your Yoda, then that makes you Luke, and my brother!”

“No way,” the sheriff said flatly. “No way _you_ are the only other one who’s seen Star Wars, Lydia.”

She laughed. “He tricked me into it. Promised me The Notebook and next thing I know I’m in a galaxy far, far away.”

“Yeah, but you loved it.” Stiles grinned sweetly at the strawberry blonde. “You were very pleased to be my Princess Leia, I could tell.”

“Scruffy-looking nerf herder,” she mumbled.

“Hey! Who're you calling _scruffy?"_  Stiles grabbed his chest like she’d physically struck him. “I prefer scoundrel.” He flashed a winning smile.

The sheriff couldn’t stop smiling himself. These two were meant to be together, and finally it had happened, with his help. “Leia is a Skywalker,” he pointed out. “She could become a Jedi. So I’ll be _her_ Yoda.”

“I guess a lightsaber is better than a baseball bat.”

“Hey, you used that baseball bat to fight off a berserker!” Stiles reminded her, grinning over at his father.

Lydia sniffed. “It was out of desperation.”

Stiles and the sheriff replied simultaneously. “Sure it was.”


	13. hey so i'm back to dump a bunch of things at once

“Okay, now that you’re here, Scott, I’m going to get a cup of coffee.” Lydia stood up from the small plastic chair, her knees cracking. She reached out to touch Stiles’ cheek, his hand coming up to catch hers and squeeze it for a second. “I’ll be back soon,” she whispered, and threw Scott a wan smile before she walked out of the room.

Stiles immediately turned to his best friend. “Dude,” he said urgently, “you need to take care of Lydia while I’m out of commission here.”

Brow furrowing, Scott replied, “She looks terrible. What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “It’s just her. Lydia worries so much about other people that she forgets to worry about herself. I mean, under normal circumstances she gets so engrossed in things she forgets to eat or drink. And her sleeping habits used to be almost as bad as mine.”

“It probably helped when the two of you started sleeping _together_ at night,” Scott added slyly.

Stiles nodded completely seriously. “It definitely did. But now I’m in here, and even though I’m gonna be fine, I know Lyds is so freaked out that she isn’t thinking about herself at all. I need you to make sure she sleeps and eats and – and just take care of her, okay, man? I’m gonna go crazy in here if I’m not sure she’ll be alright without me for a while.”

Scott opened his mouth to say something, but then he shut it and nodded in agreement.

“And you gotta make sure she leaves the freaking hospital sometimes,” Stiles added miserably. “I’ll never be able to bring myself to kick her out and she won’t go on her own.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “God knows Lydia is a force of nature, and she can take care of herself. Except that she really really can’t because she is too busy taking care of everybody else. I know you’ve got other stuff going on, which is why I asked Allison to do the same thing when she was here before, and your mom.” Chewing his lip,  he mumbled, “She needs me. Just like I need her. But I can’t be there for now, and it’s killing me, so can you do your best friend a solid and look out for the love of his life?”

“Okay,” Scott agreed quietly.


	14. writing this fucked me up almost as much as that movie did

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR "A WALK TO REMEMBER"

The credits were playing and Stiles blinked away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. It wasn’t the first time he and Lydia had watched the movie, it was one of her favorites after “The Notebook.” His girlfriend had a terrible weakness for Nicholas Sparks, and “A Walk to Remember” was no exception. So since he’d seen it before, he didn’t sob for a good five minutes like he had the first time.

Lydia for her own part wasn’t even tearing up like she usually did. Instead her head was resting on his chest and she was at least half asleep. If she wasn’t, those next words probably wouldn’t have come out of her mouth.

“If I were dying, would you marry me?” she mumbled, her fingertip drawing a pattern on his ribs.

Stiles inhaled sharply. He didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.” He’d marry her even if she wasn’t dying. If he could, he’d get down on one knee right now and propose.

He felt her little smile against him. “Me too. Would you be like Landon after? Or get remarried eventually like a normal person?” She chuckled slightly, but there was a tightening in his chest. That question didn’t require any thought, either.

“I’d be the same as him.” Stiles swallowed. Lydia sat up a little to look at him, blinking her droopy jade green eyes. “I – there’s never gonna be anyone else, Lyds,” he admitted, voice cracking. “No matter what happens. You’re it for me, you’ve been it for me since the third grade.” It was achingly true. “Even if you died, I’d keep that ring on forever.” His own father still wore his, almost ten years after Claudia Stilinski’s death.

Lydia was nodding rapidly, crawling up his body to cup his face in her hands. “Not for me either. Nobody but you, not ever. I wouldn’t want anyone else.” She touched her forehead to his, both of their eyes closed. “So do me a favor and don’t go dying on me, okay?”

“I won’t if you won’t,” he whispered.

Her lips twitched up in a smile. “Then it’s a deal.”

They sealed it with a kiss.


	15. why couldn't this have happened WHY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> like honestly we had one of those scenes that everyone uses in fics as a catalyst for relationship upgrades and NOTHING we got NOTHING i'm so mad incidentally this is 4x09

His hands were shaking violently as he undid her cuffs, and his eyes kept darting away from what he was doing to look at her tear-stained face. Stiles finally managed to make his fingers work long enough to free her, and then immediately pulled her into his arms.

“Lydia,” he rasped. He was holding her so tightly it might have been painful if she were able to feel much of anything at all right then. His forehead pressed against her temple and they rocked slowly back and forth.

She came back to her senses after a few minutes, and turned in Stiles’ vice-like embrace to face him. “Are you okay?” she warbled, squeezing her hands up to flutter around his head. “He – he hit you so hard!”

“Oh my GOD,” he groaned, and buried his head in her hair. “Had a needle in your neck and worrying about me – a _needle_ in your – !” Stiles started gasping and his fingertips dug into her flesh.

It sounded dangerously close to a panic attack so Lydia quickly said, “I’m okay. I’m okay, he never got to inject anything.” Her words came out as a whimper, which couldn’t have been very comforting.

“He could have,” Stiles mumbled, and he lifted his head to look her in the face. She was aware she couldn’t look very good to him right then, tear-stained and wild-eyed. But he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers, eyes shutting. “Lydia. Oh, Lyds.” He repeated her name a few more times and his fingers twitched.

“Stiles…”

Suddenly his lips were everywhere, dropping kisses all over her face. Cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, jaw. “I love you, Lydia. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“ _Stiles_.”

“I love you.” He stopped kissing her but his face was even closer to hers than before, foreheads and noses touching. “I love you. You can’t die.”

Lydia ached to close that last tiny bit of space and kiss him senseless, but there was an issue. “What about Malia?” she mumbled.

He shrugged. “She hasn’t talked to me in a while, and honestly I haven’t really cared. And… she’s not you. You almost getting killed… it reminded me how much I love you, Lyds. Only you. If you died, I’d…”

“Go out of your freaking mind?” she murmured.

Stiles shook his head. “Going crazy requires surviving it at all.”

“Oh, Stiles,” Lydia whispered. “I love you.”

He was the one to lean in the last little bit and kiss her, fingers clutching at her face. Kissed her desperately, like he was drowning and she was air.


	16. i wrote a lot of these chapters during season 4 btw

 

She didn’t believe Scott when he first told her.

“No matter what, it’s always going to be Lydia.” He’d had a deadly serious look on his face, but she’d only scoffed. Like Stiles would actually really care about that weak redhead. All she did was find the bodies.

Malia didn’t believe him the second time, either. It was the day that plague was released in the school, and they were all outside, recovering. Stiles was off to the side talking intently with the banshee, who’d apparently been outside all this time. The beautiful little genius who’d gotten a perfect score on _her_ PSAT back in ninth grade.

“What are they even talking about?” she mumbled, supposedly to herself, but she was with people who had super-hearing, after all. It was only because they were reasonably far away and she was surrounded by clamoring crowds that she couldn’t hear their conversation herself.

“It doesn’t matter,” came Scott’s low, rough voice. He’d been sicker than any of them. “He’ll always want to talk to Lydia. I know how glad he was that she hadn’t come today. Never been happier that she’s a genius.”

“Is this another one of your warnings, Scott?” she’d snapped at him.

“Yes,” he replied coolly. “I just want you to be ready. In twenty minutes or twenty years, it’s still going to be Lydia for him.”

Malia growled and stalked away.

Now he’s glancing at her with knowing pity, when he could tear his eyes away from the couple in front of them.

Stiles, desperately clinging to the red-haired banshee, to _Lydia_ , his precious Lydia. He’d dropped to his knees next to her on the floor as soon as they’d taken out the assassins who kidnapped her, pulled the near-hysterical girl into his arms and hadn’t let go for a second. His face was buried in her neck and he had a white-knuckled grip on her sweater, as if that would keep her from being ripped away from him.

There were no crowds distracting her on this day, in the dark, empty basement. She could hear every time he practically whimpered the other girl’s name. _I love you_ , she’d heard him murmur at least nine times. Malia wasn’t good at math, but she still knew that all this added up to a big fat “I told you so” from Scott McCall. Even if he was too kind to verbalize it.

She couldn’t even hope Lydia didn’t reciprocate Stiles’ feelings. The banshee was holding him back just as hard, sobbing out his name and nodding vigorously every time he mumbled the three little words he’d never said to Malia, probably never even _thought_ in conjunction with her. It was always going to be Lydia for Stiles, and Stiles for Lydia.

And Malia would just have to deal with it.


	17. if there aren't three chapters of Angst Due To Miscommunication was it REALLY a fanfic

 

Scott glanced down at his phone. _Stiles_. He should have seen this coming.

Evidently Lydia knew without being told who it was. “Please don’t tell him, Scott,” she begged.

He sighed. “I’m not gonna lie to him, Lydia.” The banshee bowed her head and nodded her understanding. Scott stood up and walked out of the room, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hey, man,” he said in a low voice.

“Scott?” Stiles sounded better than Lydia, but not by much. “Where are you?”

The werewolf swallowed. “I’m at Lydia’s.”

“…Why?” His voice was guarded. Scott, for once, ran out of patience with his two achingly belligerent friends.

“Because she called me an hour ago, crying her eyes out that you don’t love her anymore and she has no one else!” he snapped.

Stiles was silent. Scott carried on. “And she’s _still_ crying. I had to leave her to answer your call.”

“I… I didn’t mean to…” Stiles mumbled. “I thought she…”

“Well, whatever you thought, you thought wrong,” Scott told him, more harshly than he intended. “You broke her heart. Shattered it into tiny pieces. I can sense so much pain coming off her it’s practically making me sick.”

“Oh god,” he murmured. “I – I fucked up pretty bad. Didn’t I?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Scott growled, almost literally. “Especially since I know for a fact that you _do_ still love her. _And_ that if you didn’t, she’d be pretty much right in saying she has no one else!”

“She has _you_ ,” Stiles muttered with a little resentment coloring his tone.

“But I’m not the one she wants.” His voice was gentler now. “You are. Or you _were_ , god knows if she’ll even take you back after this mess.” Okay, not so gentle. Sue him, he was mad at his friend. _Both_ his friends.

“Fuck.” Scott could picture Stiles’ face – his eyes were probably shut and his mouth twisted, and he’d just banged his head against the nearest hard flat surface.

“Yeah. So get over here and hope like hell she’ll forgive you.”

“On my way.” There was a door slamming in the background and scant seconds later the sound of the Jeep’s engine roaring into action.


	18. reposting something that had previously been stand-alone

It was a warm, sunny morning, and Sheriff Stilinski was about to leave for his early shift at the station, but he wanted to check in with Stiles before he left, make sure his son would be getting his ass to school on time.

The Sheriff opened Stiles’ bedroom door, and paused.

His son was sitting up already, wild-eyed and staring at him with a panicked look on his face, arms akimbo and fingers twitching. But John could tell this wasn’t a supernatural kind of freaked out. He noticed something else, and a small smirk grew on his face.

“Good morning, Dad!” Stiles squeaked.

“Good morning, son,” he said, completely normally. The seventeen-year-old immediately relaxed. “And good morning, Lydia.”

Stiles fell out of the bed.

“Morning, Sheriff,” mumbled a sleepy voice from the other side of the bed.


End file.
